Cogs And Stuff
by Satan's Spiky Thong
Summary: SpinexRabbit. SPG smut. Pure and delicious. Rated M for sexual themes.


"Rabbit, are you named after your bedroom prowess?" Spine, sprawled out robutt-naked (save his hat and tie) on the Super Recliner V. 3.0, beheld a rather confused and bored expression. He always liked to taunt his brother during these _very specific_ practices.

"You're such a j-jackass." Rabbit was straddling him with only just his top off, metallic chest reflecting the dimmed store lights above the furniture section. "I have a bit of a problem, y-you know."

It was late. Walter Robotics was never busy at 12:00 A.M., because Walter Robotics was never _open _at 12:00 A.M. The cameras were all shut down, the displays turned off, and all the workers retired.

And when the customers were away, the robots played.

"You're right about having problems, brother, but I expected a little more effort. My apologies for having fairly moderate standards when it comes to robotic intercourse."

"You're asking for it, Spine."

"I really am. In fact, I thought I had made my desires clear." A cocky grin spread across Spine's smooth, chrome features. He had his arms crossed behind his head, looking all too relaxed, with his hat tilted over his forehead. The classy bastard. "You wanted this, too, Rabbit."

"I did. You're still an ass, though. Just hold still."

"I'm not going anywhere."

Rabbit, being the malfunctioning robot he was, couldn't even operate his prosthetic dick. To Spine's dismay, his brother had "spilled his oil" a little too early, and, thus, wasn't quite in the mood at the moment.

He was running his bronze hands over his shaft now; all clinky clink. But he just wasn't getting his gears turning. "Hey, Spine, do you still have those Playbot magazines?"

"You can't use those. They're collectors, but I've got something better. If you'd like."

Rabbit stopped wanking off over Spine's chest and slid off the couch. The two switched positions, with Spine on his knees between his broham's legs.

Once all comfy-cozy, Spine wrapped his segmented fingers around the big, bronze dick in front of his face. Its wielder just sat back and watched as those fingers slid up, down, and all around. He really worked his experience like a pro.

Sure enough, it all paid off when Spine got a rise out of the prize. He smirked and gazed up at Rabbit with an expression plastered with sarcasm.

Sweet, black oil started to ooze from a certain appendage. It smelled like, well, oil. And probably tasted the same, which was perfectly fine, since that is what robots consumed, anyway. And if this went as it should, Spine should be guzzling that shit.

Hue.

"S-S-Spine…" Rabbit arched his hips just a tad to let his partner know he was ready for a bit more action.

The dieselpunk robot obliged, licked his lips (with oil, not saliva, duh), and slowly pressed them against the smooth, metallic head of Rabbit's erection. Just the lightest touch seemed to elicit enough pleasure for the other robot to make a small groaning sound.

With one hand still wrapped firmly around the base of the appendage, Spine worked his mouth around the head. He slid his tongue underneath, brushing the sensitive bits and lathering the metal for intake. The process was still something he took his time with, mostly because teasing Rabbit was fun, but also because he just generally enjoyed sucking dick.

Oil began to gather in the back of his throat, deliciously taunting him to swallow. But he couldn't. He had Rabbit's length almost balls-deep inside him, now.

The further Spine took him in, the more Rabbit bucked and arched and made little noises of ecstasy.

Most could agree on some witty joke relating Spine's deep-throating with how he got his name, but this is obviously a super cereal fanfic that needs to be taken super cereal.

So, getting just as antsy as his brother, Spine moved his lips faster over the prosthetic dick, bobbing his head with each arch in some sort of organized and rhythmic dance. Of the blowjob.

And when he himself just could not take any more of the fluids filling his throat and mouth, he pulled Rabbit's shaft out and swallowed hard, taking deep gasps of air before placing his lips back where they belonged.

"Just a-a-a bit more, S-Spine…" Rabbit breathed through his own broken gasps.

Spine gave him what he needed, slurping on that D faster and faster until the oil rush flooded him once again.

Rabbit moaned in relief of his load, and, having been bent forward for most of that, fell back into the recliner with a deep exhale.

"What? You don't think I get a turn?"

Rabbit raised his head again, only to see Spine unbuckling his own dress pants.

"Go use your collector's magazines, you a-ass!" Rabbit sneered, but knew he'd end up on his knees before the night was over.


End file.
